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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702806">Under My Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam'>poselikeateam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vampire Bards (and the Witchers Who Love Them) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angry Lambert (The Witcher), Background Relationships, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Lambert (The Witcher), Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Songfic, Trans Lambert (The Witcher), Valdo Marx pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:09:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything that's happened between them, Valdo and Lambert are trying to regain some sense of normalcy in their friendship. Eventually, something's gotta give.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lambert/Valdo Marx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vampire Bards (and the Witchers Who Love Them) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trans Characters in The Witcher Universe</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, a few notes!</p><p>1. This is a songfic for <i>Under My Skin</i> by Jukebox the Ghost. I was listening to it and thought of how perfect it was for these two assholes and honestly, it felt like the best way to move forward. I really recommend listening to it if you haven't/while you read along.<br/>2. One chapter per stanza. The chapters might be short, but with the alternating POV it didn't really make sense to have it as a oneshot.<br/>3. This is the one where they get together!<br/>4. I'm not 100% finished with it just yet, so when I am, I'll add tags accordingly</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i></i>
</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>How much can you fit under your skin?<br/>How much can you fit under your skin?<br/>I wish you were dead babe, I wish you were dead<br/>I can fit two, I can fit two…</i>
  </p>
</div>Just because they're together again, doesn't mean it's gone any further than it was before they parted. Yeah, that's a stupid, coy, roundabout way of saying it, but he doesn't really know how else. The thing is, Lambert has these feelings for Valdo. He knows Valdo feels the same. Logically, it should be a very short leap from that to... well, to some kind of relationship. At least a hookup. <p>Unfortunately, things do not tend to be easy and straightforward for Lambert.</p><p>It feels kind of like... like there's another person under his skin. He's got some evil brain-twin that takes half his focus away and starts thinking sappy shit about Valdo when he should be focusing on, say, <i>literally anything else</i>. Lambert needs to juggle the part of him that he's used to (the curmudgeonly, emotionally repressed dickhead that everyone knows and loves, he thinks wryly) and the <i>new</i> part, the part that can't stop fucking fixating on shit like the way Valdo's nose crinkles up when he's really amused by something, or the spark in his eye when he's about to do something he shouldn't. </p><p>The first part (the <i>normal</i> part, referred to herein as Regular Lambert) is petty and easily irritated. Regular Lambert thinks, sometimes, that he wishes Valdo were fucking dead so he wouldn't have to think about him. </p><p>However, he still has this dichotomy. The <i>other</i> part, Sappy Lambert, disagrees. Regular Lambert is reasonable and thinks shit like, <i>if Valdo died, he'd just come back after a while. Maybe I could have this shit figured out by then.</i> Sappy Lambert, however, likes to argue with images of Valdo's fucking corpse and really, that's entirely unfair. It's not like death would be permanent for him. It's just a long nap. </p><p>He can't stop fucking thinking about him, is the problem. He wants to do ridiculous shit like tangle his fingers in Valdo's hair, shortish and black and always slicked back. He wants to sit on Valdo's lap and see which of them can bite harder. He wants, he <i>wants</i>. And he knows that Valdo wants too, and that just makes it all the more difficult.</p><p>Because, see, a lot of shit's happened between them. He knows he can trust Valdo, sort of, but that's such a wild concept to him that he can't wrap his fucking head around it. He's not used to trust. Valdo Marx saved his fucking life, put himself at risk to keep Lambert alive, helped nurse him back to health like he was some fucked up baby bird. Lambert knows he can trust him, that the <i>higher vampire</i> could have ended him at any moment even when he <i>wasn't</i> conscious. He knows that, in a sense, he is very lucky to be able to even <i>have</i> this crisis right now. The thing is, he's not... he's not sure what to do about it.</p><p>He drove Valdo away on purpose, hurt him bad to soothe his own fucking ego. Even if Valdo <i>does</i> have fucking <i>feelings</i> for him, Lambert's not a fucking idiot. He knows that feelings aren't the only ingredient for a good relationship. There's, like, trust, and shit. Lambert hurt him, and who's to say he won't do it again? He's not a nice person, after all. </p><p>He's just not sure if he deserves it, plain and simple. He isn't sure if Valdo would even want to do something with this... whatever it is between them. He doesn't even know if <i>he</i> wants to. It's all too fucking much.</p><p>It wouldn't be, if Valdo wasn't around, but there's this pain in his chest when he thinks about going back to that. He doesn't know how, but he really does feel like he's fitting two different people under his own skin, and he honestly doesn't fucking like it very much, thanks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>I can fit two people under my skin<br/>Yeah, I can fit two people under my skin<br/>And I will prove it if you will listen<br/>You crawl up in there and join me within</i>
  </p>
</div>Don't get him wrong — Valdo is glad that he and Lambert are friends again, that they're sharing the road like they used to. He didn't expect some grand confession of love or for their relationship to turn to the romantic, or even to the sexual. He gets it, really. Lambert still doesn't trust him, more likely than not. Saving a man's life doesn't erase all the ways he's fucked up in the past, after all.<p>He thinks about Lambert so much that it feels like the witcher is living under his skin, like there's a part of him that inhabits Valdo's own body. It's exhausting, it's concerning, it's... kind of nice. </p><p>Valdo has missed Lambert a lot. He does himself no favours by trying to pretend otherwise, and he's never been one for that sort of thing anyways. He's never denied, inwardly, that he has feelings — nor has he denied what those feelings are. It's just that, simply put, if <i>others</i> think that he is aloof, standoffish, even <i>emotionless</i>, he's going to have an easier time of keeping them at arm's length.</p><p>That, of course, is part of the problem. He's never wanted to keep Lambert away. Even in the beginning, when Lambert came up and immediately insulted his singing, Valdo was intrigued. He found himself drawn to this abrasive man, found himself wanting to get to know him. It isn't unprecedented, per se, but it is exceedingly rare for him to want to get to know someone like this. </p><p>There is enough room in his skin for the both of them, metaphorically speaking. The love and affection he feels towards the witcher is considerable. He could prove it if he was just given the chance, prove that he can do this, that he can... well, he doesn't know, exactly. That he can be trusted? That Lambert deserves to be loved? That his love is genuine? Yes, all of that and more, but Lambert would never allow it.</p><p>The man is more closed off than Valdo is, and that's saying something. The issue with Lambert is that he's closed off to himself, as well. He has been hurt, and it doesn't take much to learn that, really. Gods, if anyone gets it, it’s Valdo. He’s not exactly been blessed with the best luck, himself.</p><p>Well, he hadn’t been, before he met Lambert.</p><p>To be absolutely fair, Lambert is a thrice-damned headache. He’s rude, crude, and mean. He takes everything as a personal attack, and Valdo has to admire the amount of upper body strength it must take to carry that enormous chip on his shoulder all the time. </p><p>And yet, he’s also an absolute treat. He’s sharp and witty, and fiercely protective over the few people and things he cares about. He’s the type of man who would insult Valdo unreservedly, but refuse to allow anyone else to do so. They’ve only known each other for a scant few years — barely any time, for ones such as them — and yet, Valdo <i>knows</i> him. Lambert has allowed him to get close enough to learn him, to learn when he’s joking or being serious, when he needs time alone, when he needs to be distracted, when <i>fuck off</i> means <i>I’m glad you’re here</i>. Valdo, too, has allowed himself to get close enough to learn these things, and allowed Lambert close enough to learn his quirks in return.</p><p>Valdo would give him the moon and stars, if he could. He would protect Lambert from those who would harm him, soften the effect of their scorn, let the witcher live in his skin, next to his long-dead but still-beating heart. </p><p>If only Lambert would allow him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i></i>
</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>I can feel your heart beating under my skin<br/>And the beating of your heart is making me bleed from within<br/>And if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup<br/>Do you think it'd be enough, do you think it'd be enough<br/>To fill... my heart with music?</i>
  </p>
</div>Neither man is human. Neither man's heart beats quite the same as it had when they were. In a way, each is attuned to the beating of the other's heart, now. Their senses, after all, are different from a human's. <p>Valdo hears Lambert's heart beating its slow rhythm, a steady <i>bum... <b>bum</b></i> in his chest. He can almost feel it, alongside his own, reverberating through his own chest like he's stood too close to a deep and heavy drum. It soothes him, to know that Lambert is still there, still <i>alive</i>. The troubadour still remembers how pale he'd been, how close to death. The beast within him roars to life, demands that he protect what is his, whenever he thinks too deeply on it.</p><p>However, he knows that Lambert is not truly his.</p><p>It cuts him deeply. He tries not to think about it, but that's certainly easier said than done. </p><p>Vampires are possessive creatures. Valdo is trying very hard to keep that part of himself, well, <i>to</i> himself, but it's an uphill battle. Lambert's heart is so loud in his ears, beating next to his own. </p><p>(Actually, Lambert has noticed something about Valdo: his heartbeat has slowed drastically since they've met. It's no longer at a human pace. One day, he asks why. </p><p>The troubadour looks embarrassed, though he doesn't blush. Can he blush anymore, or does his slowed heart rate, like Lambert's, make that impossible? That, at least, is a question that Lambert refuses to ask.</p><p>"Well," he says, clearly trying to pretend that the question is no big deal to him, "if you must know, it's to do with what I am. We don't <i>require</i> circulation, you know, but if a human were to notice that we had no pulse... well. You can see how that would be problematic, yes?"</p><p>Lambert snorts. "What, so you just turned it off?"</p><p>Now, Valdo is unable to hide his embarrassment, and his cheeks do tinge the slightest pink. "Hm, not exactly. It, erm, it's to do with blending in, you see? If I spend all my time amongst humans, I'm going to be more like one. I suppose my, well, my unique biology has simply... adapted to yours."</p><p><i>Simply</i>, he says, as though that isn't a wild fucking claim. Their hearts are practically beating as one, for fuck's sake. It's like a love song, except that it's the two of them. Lambert... doesn't want to think about what it all implies, exactly.)</p><p>Valdo is glad for it, actually, in a way. A slow heart rate means he retains the blood he drinks for just a bit longer. It isn't much — human blood, after all, doesn't have the longest shelf life — but he appreciates that he doesn't need to consume human blood as often.</p><p>Sometimes he wonders if Lambert's witcher blood would last longer. If he could open that slow, steady heart as if it were the juiciest southern peach, how long could he go without feeding again? It's... not a pleasant thought, exactly. Of course, if he thinks about drinking it <i>normally</i>, he has a bigger problem (or, at the very least, a more, ahem, <i>prominent</i> one). The mental image of himself sitting on the witcher's lap, pressed chest-to-chest, inhumanly strong arms around his own waist to steady him; of his own arms around Lambert's shoulders, feeling the firm muscles there as he digs his fangs—</p><p>Gods, no, he cannot think about that and retain any sense of sanity. </p><p>Lambert's blood smells delicious, but Valdo's not insane enough to actually consider it a possibility in any capacity. It's a slippery slope to all of the <i>other</i> thoughts he refuses to indulge, the other things he wishes he could do with his— with his friend. </p><p>His own heart yearns, not just for sustenance, but for... what? Reciprocity? He knows Lambert feels the same, or at least similarly, as he does. Nothing will come of it, and he needs to remind himself of that more often than he's strictly comfortable with. Still, the thought of it, of making a meal of his friend, is enough to make him salivate, even though he doesn't want to. The thought of what could exist between them, were they slightly different people than they are, makes him... well, nostalgic, he supposes.</p><p>If he could only have Lambert in the way his heart wants, he can't help but think, the <i>music</i> he could make! The songs it would inspire, pulled from the depths of his aching, slowed heart. Oh, he yearns, he <i>craves</i> what he cannot have. He hungers, not just for Lambert's blood, but his love. </p><p>It's sort of pathetic, honestly, and yet he cannot stop it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before you say anything, yes, I am aware that this is not how biology works. I'm handwaving it off as "vampire biology is different from human biology" lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i></i>
</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>Oh no, not a chance in hell<br/>Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well<br/>Heart melts, yeah you meant so well<br/>But your song's no good round here</i>
  </p>
</div>Look, it's not that Lambert doesn't trust Valdo. Really, he trusts the troubadour more than he thinks he should. The thing is, he's <i>Lambert</i>. Frankly, <i>any</i> amount of trust feels like too much. Part of the whole issue he has is that he doesn't understand where the man is coming from, what his angle is.<p>It's not like he doesn't know that Valdo, for some reason, is into him. It's just that there's not a chance in hell that anything can come of it, after everything. Lambert has hurt him, pissed him off, and fucked him over from day one. The first thing he said to the asshole was that his singing was shit, for fuck's sake. That's what he does: he takes the things he thinks will cut deepest, and he fucking runs with them. </p><p>He's said hurtful shit on purpose, and he keeps doing it. Even after they became friends (which is still hard for him to fathom, sometimes; Lambert doesn't really <i>do</i> the whole interpersonal relationships thing, if he can help it) he still kept insulting him, pushing his buttons, dicking him off on purpose. </p><p>Because the thing is, Lambert isn't good at this shit. Any of it. He doesn't do deep emotions, as a rule, and he doesn't make friends or connections, and he doesn't do <i>nice</i>. It's hard to explain (partly because he's never tried, though he's never tried because it's hard; it's this weird catch-22). It's sort of like he has his own language. He can't just say, <i>you're important to me</i>, or any sappy shit like that. </p><p>For him, it's all in the tone, the body language; everything but the words is important. He has some pretty obvious tells, if one would put in a little effort to learn it. Even Ciri had taken a little while to get used to him, the way he says he cares, and she's sharper than his fucking boot knife. </p><p>A grin instead of a scowl, a more relaxed posture as opposed to rigid or defensive, a less biting tone; it's not hard to see when he's being a dickhead and when he's being as close to sincere as he knows how to get. Valdo, for some fucking reason he still doesn't fully understand, seemed to just <i>get him</i> from almost the beginning. </p><p>Maybe that's why Lambert fell for him.</p><p>Lambert tells him to fuck off and Valdo just lets it roll off of his back. He gives as good as he gets. He <i>understands</i> him, more than most people. Shit, he probably gets him more than anyone, witchers included. </p><p>He tries not to dwell on that.</p><p>Anyway, Valdo learned how to read between the lines with Lambert, but it's not a one-way thing. Maybe they're too similar, because the troubadour wasn't difficult to figure out <i>at all</i>. Valdo's almost irritatingly good at tempering him, at blunting his sharp edges. Yeah, they fight for real sometimes, but it's just little shit; it sparks and fades like striking a match in the rain. And as much as Lambert likes to insist he's shit at it, Valdo's music actually does really soothe him. It's fucking... evocative, or whatever.</p><p>But, listen, he's not some fucking blushing maiden or anything. Valdo actually does have a nice voice, a rich baritone (he's not going to admit that he knows what a baritone is. One of his favourite pastimes is pretending to know absolutely fuck-all about anything to do with Valdo's profession, just to fuck with him). His songs are usually boring as fuck, the kind of shit you hear at some fancy banquet (which makes sense, considering it's kind of his whole career, to play at those things), but sometimes when it's just the two of them... Shit. </p><p>For the sake of Lambert's pride, he'll just say Valdo is good at what he does, and leave it at that.</p><p>But he's <i>not</i> a blushing maiden. He's old by human standards, he's been around. He doesn't simper or swoon, his heart doesn't melt. You can't melt a stone.</p><p>(It's not a stone. Lambert's heart is big, and squishy, and inconvenient. Easier to ignore that, though.)</p><p>Maybe Valdo means well (Lambert knows he does, but it's still weird to admit). Maybe the way it makes Lambert feel isn't intentional (it probably isn't; otherwise, Valdo would have fucking made a move). Whether it is or not, it isn't going to work. His stupid songs and his stupid thoughtfulness and his stupid fucking caring and understanding aren't going to work on him. He's stronger than his stupid fucking feelings.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i></i>
</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>I can feel you breathing under my skin<br/>Yeah, I can feel you breathing under my skin<br/>And each breath you take is a brand new begin...<br/>Each breath you take, brand new beginning</i>
  </p>
</div><p>Generally speaking, Valdo prefers to think things through before he does them. He's not a spontaneous man; after all, any action has consequences, good or bad, and it's only prudent to consider those consequences before acting. Risk analysis is a valuable skill that, somewhat tragically, most people seem unwilling or unable to cultivate. </p><p>Valdo finds that lately, he is almost hyper-aware of each breath that Lambert draws. Every inhale and exhale is a bittersweet reminder that nothing is permanent, even the life of a man as strong as Lambert. It reminds him of how close Lambert had come to his own demise. If Valdo had been even a moment later... </p><p>It isn't something he should dwell on, he <i>knows</i> this, but it's certainly easier said than done. </p><p>At any rate, it’s got him thinking. He had come so close to losing Lambert’s company forever. It makes him think — to the point of dwelling on — all of the things that remained unspoken between them, all the things that are still unsaid even now. </p><p>Perhaps he's overthinking it; Gods know he tends to overthink things in general. It's one of those things that, after something close to two centuries, he just hasn't been able to stop doing. Still, if anything requires a lot of careful thought, it's his relationship with Lambert, whatever that may be. </p><p>It's just that there's so much to consider, so much that's deliberately unspoken, rather than simply unsaid. There are things they do not talk about, a sort of unspoken agreement that certain subjects are not to be discussed. At the very least, neither of them brings those things up. </p><p>One of those things is, of course, feelings. Neither man is the best at navigating his own emotions, to put it mildly. Valdo knows what he feels for Lambert, and he's relatively sure that the witcher in question feels, if not the same, then at least similar. The problem is that they're both, well, <i>them</i>. How many times has either of them brushed off a slightly-too-heartfelt sentiment with a joke or insult, deflected questions that hit just a bit too close to home, or simply ignored something outright? Some subjects simply do not get breached. </p><p>Normally, that's fine. Valdo's hardly going to complain about not having to talk about difficult things, his feelings for his closest (and really only) friend included. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>There's a need growing within him, a desire to say all those unsaid things, to crack into those taboo subjects, to just <i>go for it</i>. He can assume that Lambert feels <i>something</i> for him and he can assume that Lambert has some idea of what Valdo feels in return, but he doesn't <i>know</i>. He isn't sure. </p><p>He can't help but think about all those love songs he's scoffed at, the pining and yearning he brushed off. He supposes the joke is on him, now. Maybe he should have taken notes.</p><p>Each breath Lambert takes is a reminder of what he'd almost lost. It's another stolen moment, and then it passes, another drop in a sea of missed opportunities. One day, those breaths could very well run out, and there will still be so much between them that was never said. </p><p>Is it worth it? After all, even if they do share the same feelings towards one another, neither has acted on it. There are several ways it could go very, very poorly if Valdo were to just come out and say those things he yearns to. Lambert could simply not feel the same; best case scenario, Valdo is let down gently (which is to say, probably laughed at, knowing Lambert) but allowed to remain his friend. Worst case scenario? Valdo will never see him again.</p><p>What if they do feel the same, though? Even then, it's not as simple as confessing. Again, Lambert must have <i>reasons</i> for saying nothing, if he does feel the same way Valdo does. The troubadour can think of at least a thousand and one different ways he'll be rejected, and frankly, he doesn't like any of them. The absolute best of any possible outcome is that Lambert feels the same and, like Valdo, is unsure how his affections will be received. </p><p>That, unfortunately, is <i>highly</i> unlikely. No, for now, it’s best if he says nothing. At least then, he can try to make some sort of plan. Gods willing, his witcher won’t have any more near-death experiences any time soon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>This land has a way of getting under my skin<br/>And my family has a way of getting under my skin<br/>And my family had a castle way back when<br/>I would have lived there if they had more male children<br/>To fill... my heart with music</i>
  </p>
</div>Valdo is no fool, thank you very much. He recognises that he can't just jump into this. He has to start slow, wade in.<p>Look, he's been dwelling on this for a while, and he's sort of come up with a plan. A huge part of the problem he has with the idea of confessing to Lambert is that, well, he just doesn't <i>do</i> that. Opening up isn't really something he's got a lot of experience with. He's a very private man. </p><p>Simply put, there are a lot of things that he just doesn't talk about. He had the idea, rather suddenly, that if he were to bring up <i>other</i> uncomfortable things, then perhaps it would become easier to open up over time. Perhaps, then, he would find the right time and way to let the witcher know just what he feels about him, how important he is, how much he means. </p><p>(Jaskier likes to say that he has no soul, though that usually only refers to his music. As inconvenient as all of this is, at the very least, he can comfort himself with the knowledge that his rival was definitely wrong.)</p><p>Valdo does not talk about himself. He does not talk about his past. He most <i>certainly</i> does not talk about his life before, as a human man. There are many reasons for this, from his lack of a memory, to the memories he has being so damned painful. He'd told Lambert a very abridged version of his own life's story, months ago, when they parted ways. It hasn't been brought up by either of them since. In part, he's sure, it's due to the witcher not wanting to pry, recognising that the both of them could (and likely would) be very uncomfortable with that kind of heart-to-heart. Lambert isn't the type to press for information if it isn't related to his work. "None of my fuckin' business," could be tattooed across his forehead, for how often he says it.</p><p>If he's being honest, Valdo is more concerned about Lambert's reaction than anything, in this instance. What if part of the reason the witcher never asks questions is that he doesn't <i>want</i> to know? As much as Valdo appreciates that he doesn't pry, it's very difficult to read him sometimes. Lambert's temper is somewhat volatile. He'd certainly benefit from a journal, but Valdo's not stupid enough to suggest it. The witcher tends to take any helpful tips as criticisms, accusations of failure, personal attacks. He lashes out very easily. Usually, Valdo can navigate that with relative ease. Now, though, he is treading uncharted waters, and he is honestly very worried about it.</p><p>"Alright, fess up," Lambert says one night. The both of them are sitting on their bedrolls next to a fire that Lambert had ignited with a specific pattern of his fingers; one of his witcher signs. It always fascinates Valdo to watch, but something ugly rears its head in him when he thinks about everything that Lambert had to endure, sacrifice, experience, to gain those signs of his. </p><p>"What?" says Valdo. It's not an unreasonable reaction; until now, they'd been sitting in relative silence.</p><p>"You've been moping and skulking around for nearly a week," says the witcher, crossing his arms. "So come on. What crawled up your ass and died?"</p><p>A wave of fondness crashes into Valdo's chest, so strong that he feels he could topple over under its weight. Lambert cares about him. He's <i>asking</i>, in his own way.</p><p>"I've been thinking," he starts, and Lambert snorts. Ignoring it, and looking resolutely into the fire, Valdo continues, "I'm well aware that there are things neither of us tends to want to discuss. That said, I... I wanted to... share some things."</p><p>He can't outright ask, <i>would you be comfortable with that?</i> but Lambert seems to get the message. The witcher shrugs one shoulder, and if Valdo didn't know him so well, he would think Lambert truly didn't care one way or another. As it stands, he sees the tension bleeding off of the witcher, the tight, rigid way he holds himself. He <i>is</i> uncomfortable, but not enough to shut Valdo down. Instead, he says, "Go ahead. We've got nowhere to be."</p><p>It’s still difficult for him to find the words to say. While he is a storyteller by profession, this isn’t one he’s ever rehearsed. It’s not one he’s ever thought he’d tell. The beginning is stilted, halted, but eventually he manages to find the words, get them out.</p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>**</p>
</div><p>Lambert doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with Valdo, lately, but he isn’t the biggest fan. </p><p>That feral, distrusting bit of him whispers in his ear, ugly and loud. <i>He’s hiding something.</i> His self-loathing disagrees. <i>He hates you. He isn’t comfortable around you anymore. He’s trying to figure out how to tell you he wants to leave.</i> </p><p>For as long as he can, he ignores it. Valdo’s not a little bitch, after all; he’ll say what he wants to when he’s ready. </p><p>Time passes, though, and Lambert feels more and more on edge with each passing day. Just what is it that Valdo wants to tell him? Because it’s pretty fucking clear that he wants to say something. He keeps almost doing it, before backing out. Something’s got to give, Lambert thinks, so he figures that he has to fucking say something. </p><p>It’s a good thing he didn’t listen to those other parts of himself, because they’re fucking stupid and clearly don’t know what they’re talking about. Valdo wanted to talk to him, yeah, but not about anything he’s done. And the troubadour isn’t hiding anything from him, at least not in a way outside of the usual. They both have shit they don’t talk about, and neither of them asks. Lambert always figured that if Valdo wanted to tell him something, he would. He never thought Valdo would want his fucking permission.</p><p>If he thought about it for more than a fucking minute, maybe he would have. Valdo is… sweet. He’s like a southern fruit, all sour and biting, but with an overwhelming sweetness underneath it all. </p><p>Of course Lambert would be the type to want to bite into a fucking lemon, even metaphorically. </p><p>Valdo gets to talking, and Lambert pretends he’s only half-listening at first. He figures it will probably make it easier for Valdo to open up if he doesn’t feel like he has an audience. After all, the Valdo Marx that takes the stage is just a persona, a mask worn by the Valdo Marx that’s been living rent-free in Lambert’s stupid fucking heart for way too long.</p><p>Cidaris has a way of getting under his skin, apparently. He’s got a sort of love-hate relationship with it. It’s where he’s from… y’know, <i>before</i>. Valdo doesn’t remember a lot about his human life, his human past. In the beginning, when he travelled around, playing in Cidarian courts, he supposes he’d been searching for answers. Libraries that hold ancient tomes of long-dead family trees, whispers of those with his name, any lead he could find, he followed, like a dog hunting a fox.</p><p>His family… doesn’t understand. “It all sounds so horribly cliche, I know,” he says with a little huff that could be either a sigh or a mirthless laugh. “It’s true, though. My family has a way of getting under my skin. </p><p>“We don’t get along. It’s my fault, of course — and I’m not saying that facetiously, I’ll have you know. When I was… well, when I was changed, I wasn’t quite pleased with it. No one asked me; and if they did, I certainly don’t remember. Perhaps I was saved from a terrible fate, or perhaps my sire was simply lonely, but I— the choice was taken from me, and I simply can’t forgive that.</p><p>“My cousins, though…” Valdo shakes his head. “They’re perfectly content with what they are. They’re fine not <i>knowing</i> what they <i>were</i>. They can’t understand— or maybe they can, but we don’t talk about it. We barely talk. I drove them away on purpose because I… I don’t know. I suppose I had a lot of reasons, at the time. I didn’t want to be like them, didn’t want them to think I was like them. I couldn’t stand seeing them playing happy family with each other and their own sire. Don’t they know what she’d taken from them? </p><p>“They don’t see it that way, of course. They see her as their <i>mother</i>, and whoever their <i>real</i> parents may have been, they’ve just… forgotten. They’ve forgotten, and they don’t do anything to try to remember.” </p><p>Cidaris, though. He learned all he could, perhaps more than he should, in fucking Cidaris.</p><p>“I was perusing the library,” Valdo continues, after describing the castle he’d performed in. “Birth records, death records, land deeds — anything I could find, I’d read it, and naturally they had the biggest collection I’d seen thus far. And, you know what?”</p><p>Valdo grins, the points of his teeth glinting in the firelight. Now that Lambert knows what they look like, fully extended, it’s hard not to see that in his mind’s eye. It looks so obvious, now. Damn it all, it doesn’t make him any less stupidly attractive, though. </p><p>His grin is neither happy nor friendly. It’s the kind of grin that only comes from some deep, hidden pain; the kind of pain that is always simmering just below the surface, no matter how hard one tries to hide it. </p><p>“We shared a common ancestor,” says the bard. “My family had a castle, way back when; <i>that</i> castle, specifically. It was before my time. I would have lived there, if they’d had more male children. </p><p>“I think about it sometimes,” he almost whispers, haunted. He hugs his knees to his chest, as if he’s hoping for some kind of comfort that he knows he can’t be given by anyone else. Lambert wishes he had the balls to offer it, but he knows himself better than that; and besides, he isn’t sure if Valdo would even want that from him in the first place. “Constantly, back then, but less as time goes on. Perhaps one day I’ll stop, but for now… I wonder, what if? What if I had been raised in that castle? Would I have— would I have become this? Would I have been allowed to grow old and die? </p><p>“Would someone else have been turned in my place? Have I simply spared some other poor wretch from this fate? Were I still a human man, would I still make music? Would I have chosen this profession, or has my quest for knowledge simply fuelled my path in this life? There are so many things that could have changed… or perhaps I’d simply be the same monster I am now, but with a different origin that I wouldn’t fucking remember.”</p><p>And that… Fuck, that hurts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. I’m uploading a little early because of my current work schedule. This is kind of my only opportunity haha<br/>2. This is my longest chapter yet, oops<br/>3. I changed the lyrics from “England” to “this land” for obvious reasons</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
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    <i>Oh no, not a chance in hell<br/>Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well<br/>Heart melts, yeah you meant so well<br/>But your song's no good round here<br/>Oh no, not a chance in hell<br/>Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well<br/>Heart melts, yeah you meant so well<br/>But your song's no good round… here, no no no no!</i>
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</div>He doesn’t think before he talks, as a general rule, but now Lambert is deliberately keeping his thoughts from catching up with his mouth. “Nah, not a chance,” he teases. “I’ve heard you sing before. Ain’t that great. You’d probably be some fuckin’ tax collector, or something.”<p>Most people don’t appreciate when Lambert tries to use humour to cope with tough shit. They think he’s just being an asshole. The thing is, he doesn’t know what the fuck else to do. Usually, if something’s tough for him to deal with, he just doesn’t. Sometimes, though, he has to confront things that are uncomfortable. In that case, he usually <i>is</i> a dick on purpose. Very rarely, he has to actually be… helpful? </p><p>People generally don’t come to Lambert for comfort, and he’s always out of his depth if it does happen. The only way he knows how to help is to distract from what’s hurting them, then. He’s expecting Valdo to react the same as anyone else stupid or desperate enough to go to him for this sort of shit — to get angry, call him insensitive, maybe storm off. He’d get it. Valdo, though, he actually <i>laughs</i>. It sounds alarmingly <i>moist</i>, like he’s teetering on the knife’s edge of crying, but it’s a laugh. It’s something.</p><p>He honestly just doesn’t know what the fuck to do with Valdo’s whole self-loathing thing. Lambert’s used to that kind of shit from himself, of course. What if he hadn’t been the first thing his piece of shit father saw after having his worthless life saved by a witcher? What if he’d stayed a peasant? Would he have had to become someone’s wife? Would he be just as miserable, just as deprived of any choice in the direction his own life had taken? Would he still be Lambert, or would he be a little old woman now, depressed and repressed and waiting to die? </p><p>Yeah, he’s been down this road a thousand times before. “No point dwelling on it,” he says. “You’re here now.” Here with him, he wants to add, but now isn’t the time. </p><p>Then again… Shit. Maybe that’s what Valdo needs to hear.</p><p>Lambert clears his throat and, before he can talk himself out of it, says, “Sucks what happened to you. To both of us. It’s not fucking fair. But, for what it’s worth, I guess it ain’t all bad. I don’t hate having you around. Probably be real fuckin’ bored if you hadn’t come along.”</p><p>It’s as close as he can get to saying what he really feels, still. He’s never been good at this shit. Even so, the way Valdo looks at him, one might think Lambert just declared his undying love and handed him a diamond the size of his fucking head. For once, Lambert not only means well, but he actually doesn’t fuck it up somehow. </p><p>It’s at this moment that Lambert comes to a realisation that’s somehow only startling because it isn’t. He and Valdo are really fucking similar in some really fucking uncomfortable ways. Sometimes it’s easy to forget, drowned out by all the shit on the surface, all the ways they’re different. Lambert sees how much Valdo fucking hates himself, and he realises… he doesn’t like it. He can’t actually imagine a world where they never met anymore. Shit’s been so good for so long that he’s gotten used to it, to having him around, even after that stupid fucking fight of theirs. </p><p>Valdo makes him feel seen, known, in a way that he always thought just wasn’t <i>for him</i>. That asshole treats him like a person. He’s not Lambert the Asshole, he’s not Lambert the Witcher, he’s <i>just Lambert</i>. He even feels better about the whole <i>being a witcher</i> thing, if only a little, because of Valdo fucking Marx. And, based on their stupid, uncomfortable similarities, he realises that he can — and wants to — do the same for Valdo in return.</p><p>That’s it, then; there’s not a chance in hell that he can keep this shit to himself anymore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey!!! Check out <a href="https://twitter.com/orborbeht/status/1333156829161943040">this tweet</a> for the absolute most gorgeous thing I have ever seen!!! (It's Valdo!!!) I'm honestly going to frame it and hang it next to my desk, it's so <i>good</i> and I fucking love it and I absolutely cannot get over it</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
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    <p></p><div class="center">
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    <i>I don't think there's anyone under your skin<br/>Like a Cheshire cat I think that you are just a grin<br/>And I can feel you laughing, under my skin<br/>And the happy palpitations are making me... grin.<br/>You know it fills my heart with music…</i>
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</div>Just because he knows what he needs to do, doesn’t mean he knows how he’s going to do it. Obviously it’s not as easy as just coming out and saying it. He’s not that guy, and Valdo wouldn’t believe him if he tried. It’d come off as disingenuous at best because it would be so immensely out of character for him.<p>Valdo is a performer. He has his stage persona, and his public persona. Lambert is willing to bet that he’s the only person alive who has seen this much of the <i>real</i> Valdo Marx. The inherent vulnerability it must take to open up to him like this isn’t lost on him. It’s still sort of jarring to think that Valdo is coming to <i>him</i>, because of who he is as a person, but it’s also not unexpected if he actually thinks about it. Everyone else only knows the <i>idea</i> of Valdo. They see what he wants them to and nothing more. </p><p>Lambert sees more. He probably doesn’t see everything — he doesn’t know if it’s <i>possible</i> to know <i>everything</i> about a person, and he doesn’t want to find out — but it’s more than enough. The Valdo Marx that the world sees is hollow. It’s like… there’s this book he saw, once, with a disappearing cat that would slowly fade until all that was left was a wide, disembodied grin. Lambert didn’t read the whole book, so he doesn’t know if it’s a perfect comparison or anything, but he can’t help but privately compare Valdo to that cat. He only lets people see this one part of him, and it can be disconcerting, and that’s probably on purpose. </p><p>Him, though? He knows, more or less, what Valdo is about. He knows who he is when the crowds are gone. Who else is able to say that, really? Not to get sappy, or anything, but Lambert feels… lucky. He feels like he’s got something special that no one else has, and he… he wants to keep it. He wants to do everything to make sure that he can.</p><p>He’s never been the kind of person who likes to think ahead, to plan things. Eskel will have a perfectly detailed strategy. Geralt will wing it a lot of the time, but even so, he still usually has a general plan that he sticks to. Lambert just goes for it. He jumps into things head first with as little planning as possible, because plans can change. In his experience, if someone sticks too closely to a plan, they tend to have a harder time adapting when something inevitably happens that’s out of their control. </p><p>This isn’t that different, really, from any other situation, in that regard. He realises, now, that he’s been overthinking this way too much. Dwelling on all these what-ifs and could-have-beens, it’s been keeping him from doing what he needs to do. </p><p>Maybe Valdo will want to pursue something, maybe he won’t. That’s not the focus here. What’s important, in this moment, is that he knows how much he means to Lambert.</p><p>The thing is, he knows it’s not some magical cure-all, being important to someone else. It isn’t going to fix all his problems, or make him stop hating himself, or even answer any of the what-ifs. What it will do, though, is let him know that he’s got someone in his corner, that there’s someone who’s there for him just because he’s <i>Valdo</i>. </p><p>Lambert feels his heart beating just that little bit quicker, feels the anticipatory rush of adrenaline that usually means he’s about to get into a fight. Somehow, this feels a lot more significant, more high stakes. It’s probably just because he isn’t quite used to it. </p><p>Without putting any more thought into it (because, really, he’s done that more than enough, at this point) he scoots over, until their shoulders are almost brushing, and takes Valdo’s hand in his. The troubadour looks confused, of course, but when Lambert threads their fingers together, a look of… of understanding, maybe even a little awe, comes across his features. </p><p>“I don’t want you going anywhere,” Lambert says, trying to put as much meaning into it as he possibly can without saying the words that he knows wouldn’t come if he tried to force them. He accompanies it with a squeeze, Valdo’s hand firm and a little cold in his own. He hears the troubadour’s heart pick up speed, almost back to normal — or, at least, what it had been when they met. </p><p>“Lambert…” Valdo breathes. Slowly, so slowly that years could have passed between Point A and Point B, the vampire brings his hand up to cup the witcher’s cheek. </p><p>Lambert lets him.</p><p>No, he more than lets him; he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as a thumb traces his cheekbone. It’s painfully intimate, vulnerable, but somehow none of those things are actually <i>bad</i>. When he opens his eyes again, he’s looking into Valdo’s, the brown glinting almost gold in the firelight. He can almost feel Valdo’s breath on his lips.</p><p>There’s a tense moment. Either of them could pull away and it would shatter like glass. They’d never have to speak of it again. They could go on as they have been. The thing is, neither of them wants that. Maybe there should be more said, but somehow, they don’t need to say more. It isn’t that one of them kisses the other, because they both lean in, meeting in the middle. </p><p>When they pull apart, Valdo’s breath hitches, and his shoulders start to shake. For a split second Lambert is worried that he fucked up, that Valdo is <i>actually</i> about to start crying. He doesn’t smell the salt of tears, though, and that’s about when he realises that Valdo is <i>laughing</i>. He can’t see it, of course — the troubadour is still clinging to him like a drowner — but he hears it, and he feels it under his skin. </p><p>He doesn’t even have time to think the other man might be laughing <i>at</i> him, before he’s <i>yanked</i> into another kiss. Lambert learns something else that day: it’s not easy to kiss someone back when he can’t stop fucking grinning.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Epilogue</h2></a>
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    <i>Oh no, not a chance in hell<br/>Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well<br/>Heart melts, yeah you meant so well<br/>But your song's no good round here<br/>Oh no, not a chance in hell<br/>Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well<br/>Heart melts, yeah you meant so well<br/>But your song's no good round here, no no no no!</i>
  </p>
</div>Things are good.<p>They haven’t really talked about it. Neither has said those three “magic words” that, for some reason, people think is an integral part of any relationship. It’s not that they don’t feel it; if anything, it’s because they do. It doesn’t need to be said when it’s something they constantly, actively prove. </p><p>Lambert is still a prick. It’s just who he is, and if being in a relationship changed that about him, then either he’d have a weak personality or a toxic relationship. No one should change who they are, on a fundamental level, for someone else. That doesn’t mean that Valdo doesn’t call him out on his bullshit, of course; if the witcher steps one toe out of line, his bard is there to yank him back to the other side by his ear. </p><p>But sometimes Lambert will still tell Valdo his singing sucks, and the troubadour will roll his eyes and say something equally scathing back, and both of them know that it really means <i>I love you</i>. If Lambert didn’t like Valdo’s music, he wouldn’t put up with it, and they both know that. If they didn’t love each other, they wouldn’t put up with each other.</p><p>If anyone else saw them interact, they might think that the two of them were frenemies at best. They wouldn’t see the way that Lambert rests his hand on Valdo’s knee as they eat, or the way Valdo lets Lambert sometimes read over his shoulder when he composes. They wouldn’t see the tender looks, or the soft moments. They wouldn’t see the way that their insults are really terms of endearment. And, to be perfectly honest, they don’t need to. </p><p>This relationship isn’t for others. It’s only for the two of them. Neither has ever really had much interest in doing things for the sake of others. They don’t try to hide their relationship, but they don’t try to tailor it to fit the perceptions of those around them. It isn’t that they shy away from public displays of affection, but that their affection is very different from what would be considered the norm. </p><p>Valdo Marx loves Lambert. Lambert loves Valdo Marx. Perhaps a witcher and a vampire aren’t the most conventional pair, but neither could really give a toss. Lambert has given Geralt shit for being too friendly to monsters — after all, witchers are <i>made</i> to kill them — but he can admit that, maybe sometimes, it’s the right move. Yeah, Valdo is a vampire, but he’s <i>Valdo</i> first. Maybe there is something to the whole “not all monsters are monsters” thing, not that he’ll ever admit it to Geralt. </p><p>They might not be conventional, but they’re happy. In the end, that’s more than enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap! We did it! I really hope you had as much fun with this as I did. I would announce the next couple in the series but, if I'm being honest, I might be on a Lambert/Valdo kick for a while. I, uh, might have accidentally planned like, 20 more fics. Oops?</p>
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